


Speaking in Ice

by GretchenSinister



Series: My Top 3 Rise of the Guardians Rarepair Fics [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 01:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "So I was looking outside today and realized it’s December and still warm, and I told my sis jokingly that JACK FROST IS DYING. So there’s your prompt, dear Anon. Global warming is making Jack very sick, and it’s up to the other Guardians to figure out how to help. I love me some desperate hurt/comfort, and the solution to the problem can involve sexy times or not, your call!"Did someone say rare pairing? (No.) Anyway, Mother Nature’s been looking for someone who’s been feeling a little too human lately (also implied MiM douchebaggery [why the hell am I hung up on this?]).





	Speaking in Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 6/16/2013.

_Jack._ He hears his name called with a voice like steady rain. He feels his name called with a voice like butterflies alighting on his skin. He smells his name called with a voice like the rich black earth of a forest in summer. He sees his name called with a voice like the blue bioluminescence of plankton washing up in waves along a tropical beach at night. He tastes his name called with a voice like wild mulberries bursting on his tongue.   
  
_Where are you?_ With every word, the sensations change. Standing in a small clearing under a light coating of snow, Jack is buffeted by the roar of a tornado, the dawn chorus, bitter greens, the warm waters of the Southern Pacific, the scrape of basalt, double rainbows, rot and cherry blossoms and creosote.  
  
Is this really a voice? What’s happening seems so far removed from words as he knows them—but he understands what’s happening in words—_a courtesy_—the words build in his mind like a sand dune forming.  
  
Incomprehensible. Overwhelming. He stumbles forward, falling to his knees. He knows the name of the town he’s nearby, and he tries to speak it, but finds he cannot. It means nothing. But he must answer. Refusing this voice is a concept he can barely form. He tries to describe the clearing he’s in, but his voice fails him here as well. “How?” He manages to choke out, but even then he’s not sure if he spoke a word or merely made a sound.  
  
The voice tells him and he dizzily falls all the way to the ground. Soon, though, he is able to push himself back up onto his hands. He looks around the clearing, up at the sky and down at the soil, and when he knows where he is again, he says it in ice. He doesn’t remember ever doing something like this before, and before he knows it, he is on the ground once again, staring up at the sky while his vision fades to black.  
  
When his senses return to him, he is being held by granite—lianas—a column of warm air—a pale woman in a long green dress with a strangely familiar face and long, long black hair. She buds an oak tree—smiles—at him, and speaks once more, though this time her voice confines itself to the language of ice, and Jack finds himself better able to listen. _I’ve been looking for you, Jack. You’ve been forgetful. Your human memories made you think that you were just a transformed boy. But you’re not. Some of you is more like me. Is me.   
  
When you forget that, I change. And though I like change,_ she says, her smile like a massive asteroid striking the Earth, _most of those you know will not like what is coming._  
  
But now I’ve found you. They will have nothing to worry about, for you’re going to be mine once more.  
  
Her kiss is like spring floods and first snowfalls, the blood red of fall leaves and the burning blue of the summer sky, and Jack knows she has no intention of stopping with a kiss. To survive, he must let go of Jack and be Winter. His efforts to do so make her break the kiss and smile down at him like lightning striking, before she draws him towards her as inexorably as the moon pulls the tides.  
  
She will have her Winter, and the Moon will not make her relinquish him again.


End file.
